


The Man I Wasn't Waiting For

by Filthy_Bunny



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M, Romance, S3 spoilers, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Filthy_Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew exactly who she wanted and what she was fighting for. At least until Lincoln Burrows turned up and insisted on changing her mind. One-shot, Sofia's POV, kinda fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man I Wasn't Waiting For

She likes that he doesn’t call her beautiful.

She’s heard it so many times, from women as well as men, strangers as well as lovers. She has always found it a meaningless compliment; her beauty is no accomplishment of her own. It is a gift from her mother and father and from God Himself, and while she accepts every gift they bestowed upon her with good grace, she can’t help but feel that her eldest brother Bernardo’s physical strength or her sister Ramona’s brains and wit may have been more useful endowments. Beauty has turned her into a prize: made mothers eye her as a valuable wife for their sons; made men want her before they have even bothered to learn her name.

Even James, who truly won her heart, has often told her of the way his breath caught the first time he saw her face in a crowd. Through repetition his story almost manages to convince her of love at first sight, but she never completely silences the little internal voice that wonders if James would have fallen for her if she were plainer, or wider, or had no personality at all beneath her beguiling exterior. Yes, she found him attractive at first glance too, she doesn’t deny it. But he was the one in pursuit and it all started with a look.

The American is different.

He looks at her, talks to her, like an equal. When they first meet – after the mutual mistrust, of course – he welcomes her help. She knows that his priority is the safety of his son and his brother, and he needs all the help he can get, but it still feels good to be a valued ally and to take action at last. For this reason Lincoln Burrows’ occasional rudeness and the roughness of his manner don’t bother her. She hates being treated like something fragile, a china doll that is too pretty and delicate to be taken down from its shelf. James has told her to stay hidden and protect herself. But the more she finds out about him, the more her perception of him is called into question, she wonders if his lies may have been a greater danger to her than anything else. She no longer knows for certain if even his admissions of love are sincere, but if they are, he fails to understand something fundamental about who she is: the fire in her, the passion to stand up and fight for something she loves.

Lincoln Burrows understands it.

The way he looks at her is nothing like the way James does. In fact he doesn’t do anything the way James does, and while she knows that’s a rather shallow – even spiteful – reason to find herself attracted to Lincoln, as time goes by she can’t help it. She worries for James, of course she does, but she’s angry with him too. And a little flirtation with Burrows is harmless, meaningless, so she doesn’t feel guilty about the occasional feminine stretch or flick of her hair while he’s looking her way, or a covert appraisal of his physique (and let’s face it, if he’s going to neglect to dress himself properly and leave his body half on display, well, a woman can hardly be expected not to notice.)

He’s as much of a mess of contradictions as James, though. She thinks of him as the loving father and brother, always willing to take that extra step for the sake of his family, but the day she accompanies him to buy ‘supplies’ that turn out to include a bomb, it’s a step too far. She is horrified and angry with him for dragging her into this. But Lincoln gets what he came for and they leave unscathed, and as they drive away from the sale there’s a part of her, buried deep, that gets a kick out of flirting with danger like this. And Lincoln was so calm and unruffled through the whole thing, refusing to be intimidated. She can’t help but find that a _little_ bit sexy.

And then there’s the gift he gives her. She mentioned Paris earlier, and James’ long-standing promise to take her there, but she doesn’t expect Lincoln to have paid much attention. But later that same day, before they part ways, he stops for one last errand. Inside the paper bag he gives her is a keyring with a charm in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. After his previous purchase, it’s the last thing she is expecting.

“If he doesn’t take you,” Lincoln says, “I will.”

That makes her heart flutter in a way it hasn’t for a long time. Not since she first fell for James. In the midst of all the craziness, Lincoln still thought to give her this small token that means so much. To thank her. To reassure her. To offer the possibility of something more. On reflection, yes, he’s a contradiction all right. But at least he is _open_ about both sides of himself.

She still struggles to decide where her heart truly lies. That is, until the day she is snatched by that _putana_ and her people. She’s scared, but the moment Lincoln strides into the warehouse and asks if she’s okay, she feels safer. The pain and fear block out her vision when the black-haired bitch burns her, but she hears Lincoln’s furious protests at the edge of her awareness, and his presence anchors her. She refuses to cry, not in front of that _mujerzuela,_ but afterwards Lincoln crouches down in front of her chair and places a warm hand on her arm, and the tears almost spill. She knows James heard what happened over the phone, and that he is probably going crazy with guilt, but it is Lincoln who is there to soothe her and clean her wounds.

Later that same day she meets LJ for the first time. She is shoved into the back of a van and trussed up alongside him. The boy wears the haunted, burdened look of someone who has suffered far too much pain in too short a time, and is starting to get used to it. She wants to reach out to him and offer some comfort, but she feels so out of her depth that she doubts she can convince him that anything will work out right. In the end he is the one who comforts her, and she sees just what a brave, resilient young man he really is. He is also fiercely loyal, promising her under his breath that his father and uncle will have a plan, they will do whatever it takes to get them out of this. He even flirts with her a little, and while there is some shy appreciation in it, he mainly does it to make her smile and put her at ease. The gesture touches her heart. Seeing what a fine son he has raised makes her admire Lincoln all the more.

The day of the escape comes at last. The exchange is a long and frantic tug-of-war in which she teeters between James and her freedom. In the end one last lie from James makes her choice simple. It hurts to leave him to whatever fate has in store, but she cannot ignore that the web he is trapped in is of his own making. She also knows now that while they may have loved each other, they have never truly known one another.

The rest is a blur, the screaming of the alarm and gunfire exploding around her, and in the midst of the chaos she realises that she is lying on hard ground under the bright sky with no idea of how she got there. Still, she feels that Lincoln is close. Later she awakens from dark and painful dreams into a cool, calm room. LJ’s is the first familiar face she sees, and he tries to tell her something about surgery and his dad coming by soon and everything being okay. She doesn’t care what he is saying, she just wants to take his hand and hold on tight.

Lincoln takes good care of her as she recovers, but he never crowds her. He lets her figure out how much help she needs and what she is able to do for herself. LJ gives her a more delicate treatment, installing himself as her nurse once she is discharged from the hospital, and he clucks over her with instructions on when to rest and what to eat and not to lift anything heavy or mess with her dressings. She absolutely forgives him for it, because it is clear that caring for someone is what will help him to heal his own wounds.

LJ stays with her in her apartment. At first Lincoln insists on returning to his hotel room at night, but eventually she convinces him (with LJ’s help) to stop wasting his money and stay with them. It is both a comfort and a maddening frustration knowing that he is sleeping in the room next to hers.

She is impatient to get back on her feet, but there is also a growing unease in the back of her mind about what will happen when she has healed enough to no longer need the father and son’s support. There will be nothing to keep them from moving on to pursue their dream. She knows it is selfish to keep them from it, and she’s so grateful for everything they have already done, but she can’t bear to think of them leaving and never coming back.

She makes dinner for Lincoln one evening when she is feeling fit enough. LJ is out, supposedly playing pool with some of his new friends, but she suspects he is really off wooing the pretty girl she has spotted him talking to near the apartment. Since it’s just the two of them, and she’s feeling so much better, and because she’s still a little nervous, she opens a bottle of wine to go with the meal. They eat and drink and talk, and she takes great pleasure in seeing how much he enjoys her cooking. As they sit finishing the wine, Lincoln remarks on how well she looks, and she nods and tells him she is almost back to normal. She gets up to start clearing away the dishes.

“So, what will you do now?” she asks him. She smiles and tries to keep the sadness out of her voice.

Lincoln replies by shoving his chair back, crossing the room, and closing any distance that remains between the two of them.

James’ courtship was sweet and romantic and full of promise. It felt like something from an American movie, the kind that ends with a big wedding and everyone living happily ever after, and she told herself so many times how lucky she was to have been swept up out of her humdrum existence by this fairy tale romance. She didn’t stop to question whether the fairy tale was too good to be true, or even if it suited her.

With Lincoln, there are no flowers, but that’s fine because she prefers them growing in the ground. No poetic whispers in her ear, and that’s fine too because Lincoln’s lips are far better used for something other than pretty words. The first time he kisses her, he is hardly a gentleman – he isn’t even very gentle; he grips her hard enough to lift her off her feet as he catches her between his body and the kitchen counter, and there’s no prelude to ease her into the moment. And, to her surprise, that’s absolutely fine as well because she wants him just like that, full of heat and lust, swept up in a moment of crossed glances over empty wine glasses. Truth be told, this is her kind of fairy tale; the kind girls _really_ tell themselves in the dark when they let their fantasies run wild.

When at last Lincoln breaks the kiss he offers no apology, but why would he when all the permission he needed had been granted in the way she moaned and opened her mouth for him while her hands clawed him closer. His eyes meet hers and he doesn’t say a word, but _¡Dios mío!_ , now she truly _feels_ beautiful. They start to undress each other right there in the kitchen. She can’t wait another moment to make contact with his skin, and he clearly feels the same way. Common sense intervenes long enough for them to decide that the kitchen probably isn’t the best place for this, so he lifts her in his arms and carries her to the bedroom.

In the dark he explores her, worships her and kisses her scars. Maybe she’s naive, or simply inexperienced, but she didn’t realise it could be this good. Such a beautiful combination of raw passion and honest, adoring intimacy. Just days earlier she was convinced she never wanted to see this bed again after weeks of enforced rest. Now she can’t imagine ever wanting to leave it. Not while he is here with her. She realises with a pang in her heart that she truly cannot bear for him to go, and as though reading her desperation he responds, covering her, holding her, filling her senses.

“I’m still gonna take you to Paris,” he tells her later, just to consolidate the promise he has already made without words. She smiles and pushes closer against him.

He may not be the man she was waiting for, fighting for, crying for all that time. But he is the man who opened her eyes; the man she chose.


End file.
